Just Another Alice
by Koszmar
Summary: NOW REWRITTEN IN FIRST PERSON! Girls with the name Alice were going missing all over Boston; nobody knew why they were being taken or by who. Go figure that I ended up being one of them. My name is AJ and I'm about to tell you the most incredible story of how I ended up working for the White Rabbit to stop Time. And yeah, you can bet your boots that I got to meet the Mad Hatter.
1. Chapter 1 - The Fall

_PRE-NOTE:_

_I just want to say quickly that for those who have already read through this part (in third person), nothing critical has changed so you don't have to read it again if you don't want to. I decided to change this story to first person since I was leaning so heavily into AJ's interior thoughts to begin with. Just a word of warning though, I have never written in first person before so I'm not entirely sure how well it will read. Feel free to give me any tips and critical (or even noncritical) reviews are always welcome. That said, I hope you enjoy the change, and if not, I'm sorry for the change then I guess._

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**JUST ANOTHER ALICE**

**Chapter One: The Fall**

It started out as nothing more than an interesting story on the evening news. A young woman, an artist, kidnapped from her home without a single clue or suspect. Police were baffled, and nobody came forward to provide any information that might help solve her disappearance. There was no sense of a struggle at the scene, nothing missing, no evidence left behind whatsoever. The woman's parents appeared on TV, pleading with the kidnapper to release their daughter. A reward had been offered, but no ransom had come yet. They reiterated the offer. The news said she'd been missing for more than a week already as they revealed a series of pictures featuring her smiling face. She had a head full of blonde curls, powerful blue eyes and in half of the images she was painting or sculpting. She looked happy and charming, but it seemed a dead-end case; you could see the decaying hope in her parent's eyes. The girl's name was Alice.

It wasn't until they said her name that I turned the volume down on the TV and went to the kitchen. My mom was standing there finishing dinner. Her back was turned but she'd always had sonar hearing so I figured she'd caught at least half of the report. "Did you hear that?" I tried to sound casual, but it wasn't every day that a girl with my name made headlines so I'll admit, I was a little thrilled. It was probably the smallest sort of fame possible, but hearing my name on TV was exciting, even if it wasn't really about _me._

"Hear what honey?" She asked absently, blowing on a pot of boiling spaghetti noodles. Her lack of attention deflated my enthusiasm a little but I persisted.

"A girl named Alice was kidnapped the other day. No clues, no ransom, nadda. Pretty crazy huh?"

My mother turned, her brows furrowed and the _I'm-not-pleased-with-you_ expression set across her face. That was never a good sign. "Crazy is how I'm going to be if you don't do these damn dishes like I asked an hour ago." _Aw crap_. I knew I'd forgotten something. "Dinner is almost ready and we've got nothing to eat on."

Jolted by the reminder and the sudden guilt my mother always managed to inspire, I flew to the sink, brushing against her shoulder in the small space. A tiny kitchen was only one thing on the list of crap that sucked about the apartment, but it was pretty high up there whenever we were forced to share the space. "I'm sorry! I forgot! I'll have them done in just a minute—swear!"

Her frown melted to a smile. She never could stay mad for long. "Well if you don't we'll be eating with our hands, caveman style."

Long after dinner and long after any logical bedtime, I laid awake atop my covers staring at the ceiling. News was something that rarely caught my attention, way too depressing most of the time, but hearing the name Alice get said over and over was more than a little entertaining, even if morbid in context. It was my name too even if nobody had called me that since I'd gotten out of diapers. AJ was what everyone used instead, a trend my older brother Chris has started, and even though I couldn't remember the last time I'd answered to Alice, hearing that name stirred an emotional response.

There was a connection between us now, however thin, and I couldn't help but wonder where she was and why she'd been taken. Was she okay? Was she even alive? It wasn't hard to imagine numerous scenarios, but even the mildest made me uncomfortable. Yep, an overactive imagination and the soul of a complete wimp were only two reasons why I never watched horror movies; actually I didn't even like suspense for that matter. They both gave me nightmares. It was a long time before I managed to fall asleep, curly hair and big blue eyes haunting every attempt, and I'd be lying if I said the sleep was at all satisfying and restful.

A week passed after that news report before the name Alice even crossed my mind again but that wasn't surprising. Days were spent sitting in class, taking notes and quizzes and tests and half of _those_ nights were filled with hours of serving drunken patrons of the Pancake Place while they gorged on coffee and syrup covered grease. Time moved so fast that I barely had a thought to spare for anything else, which was good really. Staying busy kept the booze away and the depression at bay; that was my mother's favorite phrase whenever I started to look ragged, but she was right. Before I had thrown myself into school and work I was doing nothing more than throwing my life down the bottle and the proverbial drain instead, and it had been spiraling down faster than I could claw my way up. So I worked and I studied to keep preoccupied and man did those years fly by fast. I was three years in and feeling better about myself than I had in years.

After that hectic week I ended up hunched over a book in the library studying for a French Literature exam that felt just as pretentious as the source material. It was _not _how I wanted to spend my Sunday. Trying to tune out the conversation around me was getting harder by the second as the words in the book started to blur together and form bulbous baguettes of language that I wanted to regurgitate rather than consume. Who cared about this stuff anyway, and for that matter, why had I chosen it as an elective in the first place? I must have been half asleep that day. Feeling my brain wander I let the conversation from the other side of the table filter in. _Maybe some good old fashioned eavesdropping can wake me up_.

"—you serious?" One of the girls across from me finished asking between obnoxious smacks of gum-chewing while she tapped her nails against the top of the table. Studying them, I thought they looked professionally manicured, and I wondered how hard the little designs were to make. Of course, I'd have to get fake nails if I wanted anything close to that. My own bad habit always left mine as nothing more than jagged nubs that even smoking couldn't curb. _Great, now I want a cigarette._

"As a freakin' heart attack. Jen told me that was the only reason she got an A in her American Lit class." Her friend answered and I wondered how fast my seat would be taken if I snuck out for a quick smoke.

"But Mr. Cain is so gross! I can't even imagine it." _Okay eww_. I shouldn't have listened in, but I couldn't stop now.

"Got her an A though, didn't it?" She asked with a laugh, "And I know for a fact she couldn't have gotten it on her own. Oh and did you hear about Mrs. Rosenthal's niece?" _No, no I haven't, _I answered in my mind trying to resist the urge to head outside,_ but let's go back to Jen and Mister Cain; what did she do exactly and where? I haven't taken American Lit yet so some blackmail could really come in handy if his teaching is as bad as his morals._

"No, what happened?"

"Apparently her niece's Zumba instructor has a client who has a daughter named Alice. She's one of the girls that went missing. Mrs. Rosenthal was talking about it all morning." That hooked my attention faster than the salacious gossip about a student-teacher affair had. Suddenly I didn't want to leave just yet.

"Wow." There was a moment of silence and I could feel my body unintentionally lean forward as if that would make them talk faster. "How many does that make now?"

"Four or five I think, all in couple weeks too and all within the city. It's so creepy." That number made the hairs on my arm raise as goose bumps washed across me. _Four or five…_

"I bet it's a serial killer, probably has it out for girls named Alice for some reason."

There was another laugh, "Probably mommy issues or something. Have you ever even _met_ an Alice before?"

"Isn't there a girl in the dorm with that name?"

"No, you're thinking about Angela." I wanted to scream that they were sitting across from one, but I didn't. They probably wouldn't have appreciated being listened in on anyway.

"Oh yeah, well, either way, Angela, Alice; both names are lame; _super _old fashioned. Like I could see a grandma with that name, but that one girl, she so didn't look like an Alice to me."

"Me either."

It was like a ghost had walked through me. A chill had settled on the back of my neck as I moved my eyes away from the lacquered nails to the book. The words were still there, no longer blurred together, but they were still incomprehensible behind the layer of thought that buzzed inside my head at that point. Possibly five women gone now; five women named Alice; five women from Boston. Even as a hint of worry burrowed in my chest a distant part of me realized that my mother would freak out once she heard the news, if she hadn't already. She may not have stayed angry long but she sure could keep a bout of anxiety going for quite a stretch. I couldn't help but remember the late train, her frantic calls and the month of constant check-ins. Thinking about her reaction, I was filled with more dread over _that_ than the notion of being kidnapped myself.

I had to see the news with my own eyes though. Gossip wouldn't suffice on something like this so I went to one of the computers and did a search for my name and city. I couldn't feel it then, but I realized after the results came back that I had been hoping for the girls to be full of it. Exaggerations would have been preferable to the dark implications of their chatter, but when the page loaded my stomach sank.

Everything that came back only gave the statement I heard more credence, and when I clicked on the first link I was given details I really hadn't wanted to know after all. One of the victims was only eight, another fourteen. I could feel my guts tighten as the picture of an eight year old hunched in some psycho's basement flashed inside my head. Scrolling through the article I saw that every case echoed the same similarities as the one I'd seen on TV: no evidence, no sign of a struggle, no witnesses and no ransom. Each Alice had vanished without a trace, and nobody had come forward to claim the deed or request anything in exchange for the victims. I wondered if the girl across from me had been right. Maybe it was a serial killer. Putting distance between myself and the computer I couldn't shake away the thought of an eight year old getting hurt or killed somewhere just because of the name her parents had given her. My earlier excitement from a week ago was transforming to cold concern for my own wellbeing.

I pulled my phone out. I'd put it on silent that morning during my first class and had forgotten about it since. I wasn't what you'd call a social butterfly so I never expected any calls. Ten missed. _Jesus mom._ I deliberated on whether or not to call her. If I called now she'd beg me to come straight home. At least if I waited I could pretend I hadn't noticed or even heard about the other kidnappings. Then she couldn't get angry, and at least I'd have a few more hours of freedom from the paranoia I was sure was coming. I slipped my phone back into my pocket to deal with it later.

As expected, the second I got home I was bum rushed at the door by my mom. She pulled me into a suffocating hug and her hot breath filled my ear, "Oh my God—thank God you're okay!"

I pried myself out of her grasp and started to lie, so inured to the habit now that it took no effort on my part, "I'm fine mom, Jesus, chill out—what's wrong you act like—"

"You didn't answer your phone!" She interrupted in a strangled voice; she'd been crying. Cue the guilt. "You didn't call and I had no way of getting in touch with you and the police said they couldn't do anything until twenty four hours had passed and—"

"You called the cops?" I couldn't mask my surprise. Sure I had anticipated her panic, but I'd been wholly unprepared for _this_ level of behavior.

"Eight more girls are gone!" She shouted, "Eight more just on the news _tonight_, just like the others and I thought, I was _terrified_ that you might have been one of them but they weren't releasing names yet and I couldn't—I just—" She pulled me into another hug, and I held her in return, speechless from the amount of emotion being thrown my way and suffocating on the remorse building up inside my chest for the decision not to call. Why had I been so stupid? Why did I keep lying to her? What was wrong with me?

We spent the rest of the night together, first for dinner then after in the living room. She begged me not to attend class in the morning but after some serious debating on my part and more than a few assurances that I'd stay in public areas, she gave up on trying to stop me. I hated the look of pain and worry on her face, but I was also aware of how much money she was spending just to help me through college. I couldn't waste it like that and I couldn't stand being cooped up all day with her calling every five minutes to check-in on me.

"I know I've been pretty crazy ever since..." She started after losing the argument about me going to class; she couldn't finish the sentence but I knew what she was going to say: ever since the accident.

"It's fine mom."

"No. No, I know I can't keep trying to protect you forever but I just don't—I don't know what I'd do if anything ever happened to you."

I could feel my throat tighten, but I knew I had to look strong and confident for her so I swallowed it back down. "Nothing's going to happen mom, come on, nobody even knows my real name and we aren't listed or anything so you've got nothing to worry about. Okay? Besides, to class and back, no detours I promise, and I'll stay on the main roads."

She gave a nod and tried to wipe away a tear without making it obvious, "You're right. I know you are, it's just mother's worry, you know that."

I felt my face harden for the comment I was getting ready to make, the comment that always seemed to hurt her more than help, despite the truth that she still couldn't accept. "Nothing you could have done would have stopped what happened to Chris. It wasn't anybody's fault, least of all yours."

"I know that." She answered after a while, but her eyes said otherwise, "I just can't help worry about you." She leaned forward and pressed a hurried kiss to my cheek, tears lining her eyes again. "I'm going to bed now honey. I'll see you in the morning." Then she was gone before I could see her cry.

Morning snuck up on both of us. The late night of coffee, anxiety and troubled sleep had done little to leave me refreshed by the time my alarm started to chime, and when I turned the app off I realized with a curse to my own idiocy that I had never plugged my phone in. It was at ten percent and glaring an angry red to remind me of the negligence. _I'm so freaking stupid! _I plugged it in after climbing out from under the covers with the full intention of grabbing it on my way out, hopeful that the thirty minute charge would be enough to last until lunch. What's that saying though: the road to hell is paved with good intentions? How true it is.

By the time I got dressed and made it to the bathroom, my mother was dancing her own whirlwind through the house in an effort to get ready for work. She had two jobs with no time to head home between them, so she had to prepare for both before leaving the house each morning. Staying busy and being rushed is a great cure for keeping the mind clear of deep-rooted worry, this is true, but it isn't so great for immediate concerns like: what the weather will be like or whether or not more girls had gone missing through the night so maybe it would be a good idea to just stay home after all. We flew around the apartment in a flurry of motion, each of us managing to grab a single slice of toast and a hardboiled egg before heading out the door with the briefest "goodbye" and "I love you." I'd forgotten my phone and left worries of lunch for the future AJ to deal with, but with only twenty minutes to make it across town to campus nobody could really blame me for either, though I guarantee I'd blame myself for both later on.

I realized two steps out of the building that I was going to miss the eight o'clock bus, so I started sprinting for the stop, choking down my breakfast on the way. In retrospect, it was probably that decision to run that sealed my fate. I could have taken the next bus and just been a little late to my first class, but punctuality had always been a pet peeve of mine. I really didn't even like being on time for things, and if I couldn't show up at least ten minutes early I'd start getting panicky. So I ran as fast as I could, the bus stop only a few blocks away.

I saw the men in white suits on the other side of the street from the corner of my eye, but Boston is a big city. I thought they were heading to a wedding and didn't give them a second thought; that was my second mistake. Then I ran past a man reading a newspaper. He was walking in the opposite direction so I got a good glimpse of the headline before I rushed past him. Alice Vanishings Continue, it said. I truly believe that if I hadn't seen his paper then the rest of my story never would have happened, but I saw it and so the name Alice was sitting in the forefront of my mind again.

Sensitive to the name now, when I heard it called out on the street I couldn't stop myself from turning to see where it had come from. I thought somebody was talking about the kidnappings even though the name had been shouted out. Curiosity got the best of me, and I just couldn't help it. Turning to look was the last mistake I made that morning.

When my head looked over my shoulder, my eyes met with a curiously bright, brown-eyed stare. Looking at me was one of the most peculiar looking men I'd ever seen in my life. He was probably a foot, maybe more, shorter than the people walking past him, and this lack of height did nothing to compliment his pudgy features. He had a rotund belly and ample jowls, but the oddest feature was how pale his skin was. Goth girls would have killed for the secret, and his ashen complexion was only made worse by the shock of white hair sitting on his head. To finish the package the man wore an immaculate white suit with matching white gloves that leaned against a white cane, and one of his hands was holding onto a long white object. All I could think after seeing him was: _overkill much?_

He raised an arm and waved, the object in his hand snapping open to reveal a white- laced fan. He waved it at me in greeting and I snorted at how ridiculous he looked standing there. It was the silliness that made me forget he'd even called out my name, and it was the silliness that made me turn back around to continue my sprint, ignoring his gesture without a further consideration. I didn't have time for that sort of absurdity, not when I was already running late.

That single glance back though, it had robbed me of precious seconds. When I turned forward again I found myself on a one-way track to pain. My body was stuck on a trajectory that was leading me right into the mass of another person who was standing less than a yard away, too close for me to avoid at the speed I was going and closing fast. In those milliseconds before impact I realized quite a few things however: the body belonged to a man and he wasn't trying to move out of the way although his eyes were locked straight onto my own; his eyes were the most unearthly shade of black I'd ever come across; and he was wearing white suit similar to the jolly albino-esque man behind me, although his had splashes of red spots I didn't have time to examine. What struck me as oddest was the lack of surprise across his face. _I_ knew the collision was coming, _he_ knew it was coming, but out of the two of us, I was the only one who seemed uncomfortable about the impending future.

Just before I hit he lifted an arm, and for a single heartbeat I thought it was to try and stop me, but his hand wasn't empty. He was holding a small mirror, the reflective surface facing outward so that I had just enough time to see a bewildered expression as the muscles in my body tensed for the approaching crash. Out of sheer instinct I shut my eyes and raised my arms to keep from injuring my face, but the impact I was expecting never came.

Instead of hitting a body and scraping pavement I fell forward. Then I kept falling. The sensation of sidewalk ending was so abrupt and sure that I actually screamed in surprise. I was overwhelmed by the sickening feel of stomach parts leaping up my esophagus. I'd been running before but now I was on an invisible rollercoaster going down. I opened my eyes but there was nothing to see, the wind whipping into them so fast that I had to squint. My body tilted further forward, head dipping below feet as I flailed both arms in a blind panic. _I'm going to die!—I'm dying!—No, no, no!—Oh my god I'm dying!_ I'm sure anyone could understand the litany of despair that was running through my head, but I couldn't think of anything else as I tumbled down to what was sure would be my grave.

It's hard to explain how odd the passage of time flows when there's no point of reference around, no light or sound other than the rush of wind past your ears. I knew, or at least a part of me did, that I should have landed already but I hadn't. I kept falling and after a while I stopped screaming, whimpering instead at my helplessness, and falling was all I knew. It was like I'd always been falling. There was no up or down, no sense in any of it. I wondered for a while if I had a concussion. _Or maybe I'm already dead._ That thought alone filled me with more terror than the fall. What if that's all death was in the end, an endless downward drop into an infinite darkness? It was terrifying to consider.

Somewhere along the way I could feel myself fall faster, if such a thing were possible. The wind grew colder and began to bite my skin. It burned by eyes and tore at my lashes until I had no choice but to clench them shut for fear that my eyelids would get ripped from my face. Of course, the darkness behind them was no better. All I could see where images of my own body splattering against the ground into a puddle of blood and guts. It turned my stomach sour but I chose to swallow the bile growing in my throat. The last thing I wanted was the forensics people to find my shattered corpse covered in vomit. I'm sure the blood and other bodily fluids would be more than enough to keep them busy without having to figure out whether or not my egg had been hardboiled or sunny side up.

What happened next can only be described as a punch to the body and soul by something really big and solid; think a blow from a MMA fighter or maybe Arnold in his younger years. I hit this _something_ and came to a sudden, painful stop, the land leaving my head ringing and my eyes filled with colorful spots that danced without my consent. I didn't dare move after that, certain beyond all doubt that I was sporting multiple broken bones, ruptured organs and a great deal of internal and external bleeding. Everything hurt. _This is it. I'm going to die here._

I didn't want to open my eyes; my imagination was kind enough to draw a detailed picture of my broken body sprawled across a sidewalk somewhere, but as I continued to breathe that scenario grew less likely by the second. _Where's the ambulance? Where is everyone?_ I'd have to try moving soon, or at the very least look to see where I was since it didn't seem like help was coming. I couldn't hear any people or sirens or cars, all the things I'd expect to on a busy city street, and even if I'd just fallen down a manhole somehow, I knew there'd been plenty of people around to witness it. _So why isn't anyone helping me?_ I couldn't answer the question, so fighting against my own fears I opened my eyes.

The good news was that I wasn't dead. The bad news was that I had no idea _where_ I was. I was looking up at a far off, white ceiling; not a sky, not an open manhole, but a tall ceiling so blindingly white it looked clinical. I thought I could see some sort of carving or relief but it was too far away to tell. _Am I in a hospital?_ The second I thought that I realized it was wrong, but regardless of where I was, laying there was getting me nothing and nowhere. Apparently there was nobody coming to help me, but that was something I'd have to think about after assessing whether or not I could even move. I closed my eyes, took in a deep breath and then, before I could chicken out, forced myself to sit up.

Oh did it hurt like hell though. I climbed to my feet with a stream of curse words that would have turned my mother's face red, but after standing I was so happy with the accomplishment and the fact that I was still alive that I didn't care where I was or how foul my language had been. _At least I'm not a crater full of body parts. _That wasn't something I could gladly be thankful for every day, but the euphoria of my survival was wearing off fast as I stood there. Now that I was positively still alive and relatively uninjured I started to look around and get a feel for where I was, but my inspection didn't give me a clearer perspective, only more questions.

I was in a large room. The walls and floor matched the ceiling, solid white without a mark or blemish marring them anywhere. They were difficult to look at for long, so bright even though I couldn't make out where the light source was. I looked up again and saw the same white ceiling as before, the entire space around me gleaming like snow on a sunny day. Confused, I turned in a slow circle to get a full view of the area, but the only thing I saw that stood out against the white was my backpack laying a few feet away. It was the only splash of color and a comfort to look at, but it forced out memories of what had happened to bring me here in the first place. I'd been on my way to class; I'd been running; I turned around because—because somebody had called my name! That man in white! His face flashed in my mind and I could feel my skin crawl at how strange it all was. _Where _am_ I though? What happened? _How_ did I get here?_

I swallowed, and against my better judgment called out "Hello? Can anybody hear me?"

Just as my last word echoed off of the walls, a door I hadn't noticed before opened on the other side of the room. For two glorious seconds I thought I was being rescued or helped or—or I'm not even sure what, but for those two seconds I was just excited to see another person. At least, that was until I saw what they looked like. Three men walked into the room, the heels of their shoes tapping a soft beat against the floor as they walked in unison, and each one of them looked like a member of the MIB only with the colors inverted. They all wore well-tailored white suits and stoic expressions, hair slicked back tight to the skull and not a single accessory. Two of them started walking straight at me and the warning bells inside my head started to sound off. I stumbled back a few steps as they got closer, then almost fell to get away when they reached out to grab me, the purpose in their stride and movements too disconcerting considering how disoriented I already was. They caught me before I fell, the third one grabbing my bag off of the floor.

"What's going on?" I demanded from them, trying to pull out of their grips as they started to drag me to the door. More than anything it was their silence that made me panic so much. Had one of them said something as simple as 'don't worry miss,' I probably wouldn't have struggled at all but they said nothing, and my fear of the unknown could be debilitating at the best of times.

"Where am I? Who are you people? Let go of me!"

I said my questions over and over but I received nothing in return. They pulled me out of the room despite my efforts at impeding their progress, and the hall we moved into looked exactly like the room. It stretched out forever in front of us, the same white stone impairing my vision before it disappeared into a distant pinprick. As we began walking down the hall I could feel my heart stammering, pushing me toward a panic attack. I had no idea where we were going, but all of the horrible ideas of where that might be were turning my legs to jelly and sending black spots to swarm my vision. I felt light headed and even though I wanted to punch and kick and scream some more, the louder, meeker voice inside of me whimpered that maybe if I didn't struggle it wouldn't be as bad.

Tears started to blur my vision as I stumbled along in their grasp, but as with the fall from before, the longer it lasted the less real it felt. I calmed a little. We'd been walking forever and there were no doors to either side of us, the colorless stone stretching out and out with no breaks and no turns.

I was still dizzy and bewildered from the whole ordeal and started to cling to the hope that maybe I was in a hospital somewhere trapped in a coma. My mom might have been sitting at my side holding my hand, the doctors telling her they weren't sure when I'd wake up. Maybe it was like the movies and I wouldn't wake up until I fought my way free? I gave my arm an experimental tug, but the hand around my extremity was iron and unyielding. No amount of pulling would free me from these three, and even if it did, where would I go?

Thinking of my captors now I gave them a sideways glance, trying to blink my vision back to normal. Maybe I could find something useful in the details like Sherlock Holmes or something. The white fabric was the most obvious detail, but then I noticed the black stitching. That seemed odd. The both of them—I couldn't see anything other than the back of the third man as he walked ahead of us, carrying my bag—also had a black handkerchief tucked into their breast pockets, and each handkerchief was embroidered with what looked like the outline of a spade, the stitching white. Beneath the symbol was a number, six on my left and three on my right. I wondered what it meant.

I half-considered asking until they pulled me to an abrupt stop. The change in pace sent my heart galloping and my blood rushing with fear and adrenaline at what was to come next, but nothing in that part of the hall was any different than what was ahead or behind us. I looked around, trying desperately to find out why we'd stopped but there was nothing. I ended my scope on the man in front of me when he turned around to face us, reaching into his pants pocket at the same time.

When he pulled his hand out again he was holding a polished silver sphere that was fixed onto a black piece of metal. The two pieces were joined seamlessly, and the other side of the black part was flat and smooth. I noticed his handkerchief had the number two sewn onto it before I watched him turn to the wall and press the black portion of the object against the surface. There was a soft click before he turned his wrist to the right, and without any warning whatsoever the outline of a door appeared when he began to pull the sphere—_it's_ _a doorknob!—_outward_. _I could only gape at how perfect the door had been hidden. How had _he_ even known it was there?

Number 2 opened the door all the way, pulled the knob off then pushed the door against the wall. On the other side was nothing but more white wall, although I had growing suspicion that the walls were not what they appeared to be. Despite my trepidation, I watched in fascination as he pressed the knob against the wall again, and again there was a click before he pulled it toward his body, opening another door, this one smaller than the last by several inches on each side except the bottom. When it opened wide enough there was nothing but white wall on the other side again, but while I stared he did the same motion over and over until six doors hung open to his left. The white inset left inside the last doorway was too small for any of the men to walk through comfortably, but I realized with horror that it was the perfect size for me. If it had been an opening, I could have stood inside of it with less than an inch of space on each side. It was AJ sized, and something about that was more frightening than the men or their strange hallways.

By this point my skin was crawling, my heart pounding and I was getting a tension headache the size of Jupiter. It pulsed behind my eyes and only made the lightheadedness filling my skull more acute, and if the men hadn't been holding onto my arms I might have slipped to the floor. My mouth went dry as Two placed the knob against the wall one more time and turned. When he opened the door there was nothing but darkness on the other side, only a foot of gray floor getting illuminated from the hallway. I knew what was coming next and tried to back away, shying away from the dark, but it was a useless endeavor. The steel fingers around my arms kept me in place and even when I started to scream "no, no, no!" they started pushing me over the threshold.

When they let me go the inky blackness sucked me up, surrounding me like the dark waters of a deep ocean. I stumbled forward, off balance and ready to pass out. By some miracle I found my footing just a second later, but even as I turned to try and flee back into the light the door was closing behind me. It slammed shut before I could manage a single step, the gloom so cold and absolute that I couldn't breathe. I started to shiver, my mouth opening and closing as I tried to talk but nothing would come out. I hated the dark, I hated the dark in the familiar rooms of my own home and this was an entirely different sort of darkness. This was a room full of alien shadows and unknown dangers, and I was in it alone and defenseless.

I shrank into myself, arms wrapping around my upper body as I tried to keep from swaying and falling down. I forced myself to look around the room, could _feel_ my head turning, but for all the good it did I might as well have been buried alive. There was nothing to see, not even the slightest glow of a door crack. I couldn't tell you how long I stood that way, too terrified to move and my throat so locked with fright that each exhale came out at as a breathless pant. I knew I had to do something, try to move, try to talk, _anything_, but I knew the second I did something bad would happen. I was a kid again, trying to hide under my covers from the crack in the closet because I knew then too, that something bad was in there, watching me, and I knew that here. Something was in this room with me. I could feel it and I was paralyzed.

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

Well, there's not much to say that I didn't say at the top. Again I hope this was okay to read since this is my first go at a first person perspective story. I'm working on updating all the other chapters to match, and once that's done the story will continue on in this new style.

I did consider keeping all the original chapters up and just replacing them with the new content, but I wasn't sure whether that would be best or not, so I apologize in advance if doing it this way is throwing anybody off or being annoying.

I'll try to make my updates as fast as I can and I'll try not to change much so that people won't have to read through everything again.

Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2 - Formal Introductions

_PRE-NOTE: Again, just want to mention that only a few changes have been made, nothing major though so no worries for anybody who has already read this chapter. I think the main thing I've done was solidify AJ's personality a little more (I hope anyway), but as usual, feel free to point anything out that doesn't fit or is incorrect. I'll only be making these pre-notes as far as chapter five (where we left off). And of course, I hope it proves enjoyable._

* * *

**JUST ANOTHER ALICE **

**Chapter Two: Formal Introductions**

To say I was scared would have been an understatement. I was, and I mean this literally, one touch-from-the-darkness away from peeing my pants. I might have had a heart attack actually if anything would have breathed on me or whispered in my ear or grabbed my ankle; the list of things I was terrified about happening went on and on. It was of course then that I got the brilliant idea to use my phone as a flashlight, only to realize a pat to the pocket later that I had no phone on me. I'd forgotten it on the charger like a moron. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

Who knows how long I stood there in the dark shivering, but like with the fall and the walk down the hallway, the longer nothing happened the less terrifying my situation became. It felt like I'd never known what light was to begin with, like I'd always been in the dark. Only...I could still hear something breathing and some third sense told me I wasn't alone, and no amount of growing accustomed to the lack of light would fix that. What had my dad told me when I was in tears backstage at my third grade play, refusing to go on? _Shit or get off the pot AJ, you can't stand there crying like a baby forever._ It was odd how well the same advice fit this situation._ Well then,_ I told myself as I wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand, _shit or get off the pot._ Nevermind what the pot was in this case.

It took me a few tries, but I was finally able to get my vocal cords to cooperate. My first sound was nothing more than a half-strangled verb. I tried again, and this time I managed with a little more success. "Hello?" My voice was hoarse from all the earlier screaming and yelling, "Who's in here and please don't sound creepy 'cause I really don't think I can handle that right now."

"I'm sorry," a voice answered, soft and fragile; it was the voice of a woman, "We didn't mean to stay quiet for so long, but they don't like us talking. I wanted to make sure they were far enough away before I said anything." There was a pause, "It's Alice, isn't it?" the stranger finished with a sad inflection.

As soon as she asked the question I staggered back a step, shocked to my core at the sudden revelation. "Oh god," was all I could manage to get out, my stomach roiling as my situation started to sink in. I hadn't just fallen. I had been _kidnapped_. I didn't know how, I didn't _care_ how, but the reality was that I was just another Alice now, one of the girls who would have their face flashed across the evening news. "Oh god no, no this—this can't be happening. I was in the middle of the street!"

"I was at a playground." Another voice retorted.

"The mall for me." Somebody else added.

"A Laundromat." The earlier voice offered with a sigh.

I got the point. I didn't remember falling to my knees but I could feel the cold floor under my hands after that and I was trying not to throw up. "I feel sick." I admitted in a whisper.

"I am _so_ sorry." The gentle voice said and I could hear the truth in her words, which only made me feel worse.

I didn't move for a while after that, too shocked for anything else. How had they known my name? How could this have happened? How did they know where I'd be? How had they grabbed me from a busy street? Had I been drugged? What would happen next? The questions just continued, none of them holding an answer I could reach. It was impossible to reconcile my position with the knowledge that just this morning I was on my way to class. How long ago had that even been? Hours already? It was difficult to gauge time. Did my mom already try to call me? Did she know I was gone yet?

"Are you okay?" The voice asked.

"No, I'm really not." I answered with a laugh, and I knew I was verging on hysteria. _Don't crack a joke, don't crack a joke—just shut up, don't try to be funny and breathe._ I had to caution myself because if I did try to lighten the mood I might never have stopped laughing.

"It'll be okay." Another voice said from somewhere else in the room. "If we're quiet they'll leave us alone."

"You don't know that." Somebody else grunted.

"Shhh!" Yet another voice hissed.

I wondered how many people were in the room with me but I couldn't conjure the strength to ask. Maybe even they didn't know. I wasn't sure I wanted to know anyway. Instead I sat down and pulled my knees to my chest, hugging them close for warmth, the ground sapping all the heat it could with every passing second. I was shivering, but it was hard to tell whether or not it was from the chill or from my wrecked emotional state.

We were all silent after that for some time, and that gave me plenty of opportunity to mull things over and cry about the situation. I had been so stupid; why had I argued with my mother in the first place about going to class? I should have listened to her; I should have skipped class and called out sick from work until it all blew over. What I still couldn't puzzle out though was how they managed to get me on the middle of the sidewalk. There had been people everywhere; _somebody_ had to have seen _something._ The worst of it all was when I tried to picture my mother's reaction to the news.

Just imagining it broke my heart. If nobody told the cops about what had happened on the street my mother would come home from work to a dark house, probably already sweating bullets because all her calls to me through the day went unanswered. The house would be empty, the lights unlit. She would try not to panic, but as she went from room to room finding an empty bed and no note of explanation she'd feel it creep on anyway. She's see my phone on the nightstand and try to calm down. She'd probably wait an hour, hoping and praying that I'd come home with an apology and some lame excuse.

She'd call my dad then, even though she'd know in her heart that I would never go to him, she'd call anyway just to be sure. When that turned out fruitless she'd hold the phone, debating whether to call the cops or not, the previous night's confrontation spinning in her head. She'd wonder if she was overreacting, but in the end she would make the call. Because of the circumstances the police would have to listen, wouldn't they? It will have been almost 24 hours by that point and her daughter's name was Alice after all and with all the kidnappings what was the likelihood that this was unrelated?

I tried not to think about my mom after that. Instead I imagined what the next couple of days would be like for my classmates—if I wasn't back before then of course. _Stay optimistic right?_ _But_ g_od, the gossip that'll come from this; I might actually be popular for a little while._ They'd all pretend to know me better than they really did just so that it wouldn't look strange when they squeezed out some attention-grapping alligator tears. '_Oh I just talked to her yesterday!'_ I could already hear some of them saying just before they debated whether or not I was alive. I wondered if it was some sort of karmic justice for my own guilty thoughts about the other Alices. After all, I'd been contemplating the same thing before I become one of them.

It was hopeless to try and tell how much time had passed since I'd been thrown inside the room, but the silence was becoming more oppressive than the dark. "How do you know they don't like us talking?" I asked, keeping my voice to a whisper just in case.

"It's any kind of noise." Somebody answered, "There was a girl here before who wouldn't stop screaming. It was horrible. She just kept going and going and before too long they came in here and took her."

"They turned the lights on?" I wondered if any of them had seen another way out and planned to ask so next.

"No." Her reply deflated that small bubble of hope, "The door just opened and all I could see were these shadows. They came into the room and when they left again the screaming just stopped."

"I think it was the same men as before." Somebody else added.

"Maybe."

I shivered. "But what about food and water or—you know—other stuff? They have to give us light for that, right?"

"We haven't gotten any food or water since I've been here." A different voice answered this time. "It's just always dark."

"But _I'm_ not even hungry!" Yet another voice blurted out and I could hear the amazement in her words.

"Me either and I feel like I've been here for weeks, months even."

"It's impossible to tell how long it's been."

I knew from the voices that at least five or six other women were in there with me. I wanted to know more about them. The only Alices I could recall from the news was the one with curls and the two children, but we were obviously all here for the same reason: the name Alice. What kind of questions could I even ask? It seemed pointless to try and get to know them when, at any moment, we could be killed. I stifled the sob building in my chest. The word implying my possible death-to-come was more than enough to cause an upsurge of emotion.

I leaned my forehead against my knees after that and fell asleep, the constant stress and fear from the last few hours—I guessed at the time—too exhausting. When I woke up I could hear somebody crying from the darkness. I listened to the sound but didn't offer any words of comfort or hope. There was none to give. What could I have said that wouldn't possibly turn out to be a lie? I didn't mind lying to others but I didn't want to lie to myself. The idea of false hope was too disheartening. I dozed off again to the soft weeps echoing off the walls, but the next time I arose it was to the noise of panicked voices.

"Can't you smell that?" Somebody was asking, voice louder and higher pitched than before. Her fear was obvious and it woke me faster than a smack to the cheek could have.

I sniffed at the air but couldn't smell anything different. "Oh my god what _is_ that?" Somebody else cried out and I could hear the shuffle of feet and skin smacking against stone.

A second later I could smell it myself, something sweet, heady and pleasant. It was cotton candy and fresh baked cookies and the smell filled my nose and head. I was riding on a soft cloud of delicious warmth. Even as my brain screamed that something was wrong my body could only relax into the aroma and the euphoria it induced.

"It's poison!" Somebody said with a cough but I wanted to disagree.

I tried to disagree but when I moved my lips I realized my cheek was pressing against the cold floor and my vocal cords didn't want to be bothered with the task. I think I reached out then, for what I'm not sure, but my arm felt so leaden that it dropped to the ground beside my head a second later. I tried to resist, I really did, but sweet velvet was pressing against my eyes and filling my body with tingling heat that I wanted to curl inside. I wanted it to carry me away from this place and make me forget the entire horrible experience, so after a last sigh, giving up, I let my body succumb to the weight on my eyelids.

After the black bliss of nothingness faded I dreamt that I was drowning in a cool, whispering sea. The waves washed my head from side to side but the current kept holding my arms down. I couldn't kick my legs either and I knew I'd fall under the water soon if I couldn't figure out how float. My eyes refused to open for long, flashes of white and blurs of color coming in and out of my perception while I struggled to see more. The ocean sounded like heavy tides of voices that were growing louder and more violent by the second. Some of the voices were crying and pleading, others were screaming and some yelling. I tried to paddle, to rise above the waves but each time I tried pain coursed through my wrists and to my shoulders. I couldn't figure out why my arms wouldn't move!

I tried to call out for help, but my tongue felt thick and useless in my mouth. All I could manage was a groan. My eyes gradually unstuck as I blinked repeatedly to clear the haze in my vision, the world around coming into a slow focus. Blurred movements turned to horror filled faces attached to bodies struggling to move. The bodies were all around me and they were where the voices had come from, were still coming from. A few more blinks turned the world crystal clear and jarring. I wasn't anywhere near an ocean.

I was sitting at a long dining table and sharing the space, filling over a dozen seats to either side were women and girls of varying ages and ethnicities. Many of them shared a common feature of flushed cheeks stained with tears and eyes red from crying. Some of them were dirty or injured, one was soaked and dripping onto the table, and quite a few were still doped from whatever drugs they'd been given. The ones that caught my attention though were the children, all of them looking equally terrified and red-faced. At least four were under the age of sixteen, but I'd never been at guessing ages so I wasn't sure beyond that.

My eyes lingered on one of the youngest girls at the table. She couldn't have been more than ten and her eyes, big and pale green, were flashing from one end of the room to the next. The freckles on her face looked far too bold as the fear she must have been feeling drained the color from her skin. She had gorgeous strawberry-blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. Her mouth started to move a few seconds later, and though no words came out it wasn't hard to tell that she was whispering for her mother. She just kept saying 'mommy' over and over, no sound escaping from the prayer on her lips. It was too heart-rending to bear witness to any longer.

After the sight of everyone sank in and settled I realized that we were all tied down to the chairs we sat in. I looked down at my own restraints. It was nothing more than white ribbon tying me down to a white, wooden chair, but the cloth was wrapped around my arm and the furniture so tight that I couldn't move anything but my fingers. The ribbon wound from wrist to elbow, and craning my neck I could see that my legs were also bound to the chair. I gave an experimental jump of concentrated motion. Nothing moved. The chair was attached to the floor somehow. I wasn't going anywhere and neither were the women around me.

It was hard to decide where to concentrate my attention next, everything so overwhelming after my time entombed in darkness. The voices filling the air were shrill and deafening, and beyond them the room around us was of the same white stone from before, gleaming and cruel to the eyes. The only reprieve were the enormous tapestries hanging from the walls, all of them colorless with intricate designs woven in stark shades of white and black. Some looked like vines and flowers, others the abstract outlines of animals and monsters in the middle of vicious battles. At the far end of the room was a platform with a few, high-backed chairs that sat on either side of a tall, empty throne.

The throne itself was beautiful. The wood—I assumed it was wood—was white and smooth, the very top on the back carved into the shape of a giant spade. _Like on the hankies._ The chair had a black cushion on the seat and was draped with white silks and other sheer fabrics of the same color so that the entire piece of furniture looked otherworldly. It was an unmoving ghost waiting for a warm body. It wasn't hard to picture a regal king or queen sitting there, dressed in all white and wearing a silver crown adorned with diamonds. I realized then that I had never even seen a throne before, not outside of movies or television. It was surreal to have one in the room with me and I couldn't help but wonder if it was a prop.

Moving from the throne and following the length of wall were the people I could only assume were responsible for bringing us here in spite of their efforts to ignore us completely. Every few yards stood a man, his back straight and eyes focused ahead. None of them responded to the noise or demands made at them; they might have been in an empty room for all the notice they gave. Each one wore a white suit, and though the distance didn't allow for detail it was obvious they each had a handkerchief with something sewn onto it, probably a spade and number as the others had. Every man held a tall black staff in one hand, the top ending with an axe head that was tipped with a spike. The weapons looked sharp and cruel and I couldn't help but wonder if they had ever been used before. They looked like an executioners axe, and the longer I stared at the blade's edge the more uncomfortable I became.

I drew my eyes back to the table. It was dressed up like we were all at a dinner party instead of abductees. In front of each seat was an empty plate, and beside each plate was an assortment of forks and knifes. There was an obvious logic to the positioning of the silverware, but my knowledge about how a table should be set was limited so I couldn't understand it. There were three forks to the left of the plate, another fork and a spoon above, then two knives and one more spoon to the right. There were three glasses with silver stems then one more plate with a knife set atop it. Each girl had the same but there was no food anywhere to be seen. Between dishes, spaced every foot was a tall candlestick with a white candle but no flame. There were so many weapons, so close to us, but nobody could reach any of them and the nearness was frustrating. _They aren't even afraid of us getting away…_ That was a depressing realization.

"Hey you sons of bitches!" A voice filled the room from the far end of the table and everyone shut up, turning to see where it had come from. "You sick bastards are going to pay for this, you hear me?" It continued, but it wasn't until a girl with thick, frizzy black hair leaned back that I could see where it was coming from.

A shiver of familiarity ran through me when the face from TV was revealed. It was the curly haired woman from the news, the one from over a week ago when the kidnappings had first gotten attention. Her face was contorted in anger, the charm from her photos long gone, and her blue eyes were filled with such a glowing fury that they should have caught fire. She was staring at the guards positioned behind me—I managed to crack my neck in a vain attempt to get a look at them—and as she yelled at them she fought the bindings holding her down with manic drive. Her amount of energy was surprising given that the drugs had only just worn off.

"You can't hold this many people and not expect to get caught you dumb sacks of shit! I swear to god I'm going to kill you when I get out of here! Just you wait and fuc—"

"I _think_ you should calm down!" A familiar voice interrupted from the other side of the table. It was a woman with an older face and a head full of auburn curls. I was sure she'd been in the room with me after she continued, "You shouldn't make threats like that until we know what they want with us."

"Yeah and I think you should shut up lady and quit being the obedient little captive." The girl with curls snapped back before turning her attention to the guards again. "This is bullshit!" She screamed, bouncing in her chair in an effort to scuttle it across the floor. It didn't move and her face grew red from the effort and her anger.

"I want to go home." A soft voice moaned from my right.

When I turned to face it I was met with the dark brown stare of yet another child. She had long mahogany hair and a dusky complexion. Her eyes were rimmed with unshed tears and each time Curly to our left shouted, she would wince. I wanted to tell her that it would be okay, but I knew it wouldn't. Those tears would fall soon enough and I'd be damned if I was going to let them fall on my account. I turned away from her to stare to watch the loudest girl among us again, but my head stopped halfway when I noticed the man who had started it all standing in front of a closing door.

Others noticed as well and a heavy silence fell across the table as everyone watched him draw closer, the heel of his boots tapping a soft rhythm to mark the approach. Somebody gave a preemptive shush to Curly who sounded as if she was winding up again, but I didn't pay her any more attention. I only had eyes for the bastard who brought me here as I remembered his stare from the street. He looked the same as he had before: overweight, pale, immaculately attired and unusual with his gloves, fan and cane. He came to a stop at the head of the table and a smile spread across his doughy face. He placed a hand to his chest and bowed, and after he rose he lifted both hands up into the air, the cane held aloft in his grip.

"Welcome ladies! Welcome. Introductions are in order but first I'd like to say…" He let out a heavy sigh and nodded as if swept away for a moment by his emotions. "I'm delighted that each of you took time out of your busy schedules to join us here. For that I would sincerely like to thank you. This is a happy day."

"We didn't come here on our own buddy!" Curly yelled from the other end of the table, "What the _hell_ is the meaning of all this? Who are you people?"

Our host lifted his hand, "Now, now, please hold your questions for there's much to say and plenty of time in which to say it so just get comfortable and take notes. First and foremost I'll introduce myself." He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small notecard, "Ah yes, here we are. I am Mister R. White and—"

"Why did you kidnap us?" A teen at the table interrupted with a trembling voice, her sallow face moving between fear and hope.

Mr. White cleared his throat then continued reading from the card. "—and I have _invited_ you each here because our lovely land is in just a pinch of trouble at the moment, and we are all very hopeful that an Alice can save the day once more." A chorus of voices rose up in response, but the man lifted his cane again and made a downward wave of his hands, "Ladies, if you will, please quiet down or I'll be forced to ask your tongues to wait outside until they've finished wagging."

The strange threat filled the room with immediate silence and the man nodded in appreciation, "Thank you. Now, as I was saying. Wonderland is in need of aid, and the historians were very clear in saying that an Alice was the way to go about getting things back in the proper order. I've put together a presentation for your benefit, which is why there's been such a delay on getting this all started."

He glanced over at the guards, then leaned in closer to the table and whispered, "See the Queen refused us the help of her Knave who happens to be the only one in this damned castle who can work the antiquated piece of flimflam; said they were too busy _making tarts_ to lend us his hands." He stood again and cleared his throat before finishing, "But we managed, so if you would all kindly direct your attention ahead."

He clapped his hands together, and seconds later the lights dimmed while a blank tapestry unfurled—_from nothing—_from the wall opposite of the empty throne. When the lightening was low a picture appeared on the tapestry, but even with my best efforts I couldn't figure out where the camera was playing it from, the device hidden from view. Giving up the endeavor I turned back to the screen. The picture was monochrome, and played out like something from the era of silent movies, beginning with a cue card that read "The Villainy of Time!" while dramatic instrumental music played in the background. If the situation had felt unreal before this was stepping well past that into the realm of unbelievable. _What the hell is going on?_

In monochromatic glory, an image of Mr. White walked onto the screen and started to speak, his words unheard as classical music continued to play. A few seconds later speech appeared across the film, unsteady green text against black that read, "Are we starting now? Have we begun already?"

The movie jumped back to Mr. White who looked a little surprised, but he quickly regained composure. With a flamboyant wave of his arm he pressed the back of his hand against his forehead like a woman near fainting, the orchestra's music highlighting his actions. If I had seen this in any other situation I might have laughed. He pulled on a chain snaking out of his pocket and a watch appeared on the other end. He lifted it up then opened the pocket watch to gaze at the time, his face overly expressing a look of shock. The camera zoomed onto the face of the watch, the second hand moving counterclockwise. The filmed Mr. White spoke again, the text relaying afterward, "Time is going the wrong way! But how?"

The movie darkened and the words, "Sometime in the near future…" appeared, before the camera opened onto on a dance being held in a glorious ballroom. The floor was filled with couples spinning in circles and wearing Victorian dresses and suits, faces hidden behind an array of masks and I couldn't help but wonder what it would have looked like in full color. While the dancing continued and people laughed and partied, a figure rose on the far side of the room. The camera grew closer to reveal a stern-faced queen—she was the only one wearing a crown—that looked a little like my aunt Hilde: mean and bitter. The woman raised a scepter into the air, the top of which was shaped as a heart, and spoke to the crowd. Everyone cheered, and as the queen descended to the dance floor a figure cloaked all in black snaked from the mass of guests, the music echoing how dangerous this new character was with a screech of brass instruments. The queen spoke, pointing at him. _"_Who is this that would impede my royal waltz?"

The entire picture disintegrated to black then and Mr. White began clapping as he stood from the seat he'd taken at the head of the table, "Wonderful, just wonderful!" He dabbed at the corner of his eye, "Her Majesty has always had a flare for the arts. I've told her such myself."

"Where's the rest?" The little girl next to me asked. Apparently the movie had taken her mind off the seriousness of her situation. _Oh to be a kid again…_

Mr. White shook his head, "Alas, the Queen lost too many years between takes and refused to let us use the rest of the footage, but I've taken the liberty of jotting down the important plot point, namely this: Time has it in his head that Wonderland needs to rewind back to the start. He's tired of only having the twenty four hours to play with and wants us all to go back to the beginning and bring out some fresh numbers to be added in to all the clocks or some such nonsense, never mind that the rest of us voted against it already, twenty four being enough as is.

Feigning acceptance he made a wager with Her Majesty and won. His prize for winning was that she and her guests dance backwards for the remainder of the evening. They had no clue it would give him the head start to moving counter-wise to normal and so his trickery fooled us all. Now we can't stop it! The whole lot of us are aging down and the kingdoms are being unspun as we speak!" Mr. White gave an indignant sniff, "My entire brood has even moved back home with me and the missus; a maddening experience for us all and the queen has been reduced to teenaged temper tantrums if you can believe that!"

"You're a fucking psycho!" Curly cried, her venomous voice easy to recognize without even having to turn, "Oh-my-god-we're going to die here in the hands of raging lunatics!"

The table erupted with frantic conversation as women started to cry again, their momentary stupor shattered, while others tried to bargain and plea, others still—Curly amongst them—cursing and threatening Mr. White with bodily harm. I kept quiet, although I was inclined to agree that our host had gone off the deep end. I didn't know why so many other people were aiding in his insanity, but the fact that they were did not make me feel good about our circumstances.

My eyes wandered across the women and their reactions, but they ended up on the kid sitting next to me last of all. Her eyes were clenched shut and she seemed more disturbed by all the yelling than anything else. I didn't think it'd be allowed to go on for too much longer, but we didn't have to wait and find out either.

"If we help you will you let us go?" The question came from an Asian woman a few seats down from me, her dark eyes staring at Mr. White without wavering.

Our host put his hand to his heart and gave a nod, "Well that should go without saying my dear Alice! I've already set you ladies up into teams which will be dispersed across the land for the tasks that are necessary to fool Time into turning back 'round or at the very least stop him in his tracks. We're a little ahead of schedule though, so I'm afraid you'll need to hurry, but are there any questions before we ship you lot off?"

"Yeah." Curly cut in, her voice as sharp and hard as her eyes, "When'd you stop taking your fucking medication?"

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I did want to ask though: should I move this to an M rating? Curly tends to have quite a foul mouth so I'm not sure if I should move the rating up or not on her account. Do let me know though if I should, if it's offensive. Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3 - Inverse Appeals

_PRE-NOTE: Alright, just a word of warning I changed quite a few things in this chapter, but again, nothing SO major that you couldn't just skip it if you read it already in third person. Hope you enjoy, and again, reviews are always welcome, as well as any criticisms or suggestions.  
_

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**JUST ANOTHER ALICE**

**Chapter Three: Inverse Appeals**

After the _presentation_—Curly's question ignored—the world erupted with a flurry of action around the table. Hitherto unseen doors banged open all around the room and a rush of people flooded inside with silver trays and voices streaming conversation at every level imaginable, some whispering while others shouted, all of them smiling and jubilant. Elevator music joined from speaker's unseen, and though generally meant to be relaxing it filled the room with a background hum and pulled the entire scene into a dream-like vortex that felt as if it were teetering on the edge of some psychological horror movie. Any second a clown with a machete would appear and chop us all up or the theme music to Twilight Zone would start, I was just sure of it. As the people came toward the table Mr. White began shouting something into the air and pointing at us but he was impossible to hear over the clinking of plates, stomping feet, voices and music. I couldn't decide who needed watching more, the new group coming in or Mr. White sounding off.

He shouted out the number one then, louder than before, and pointed a finger at the outspoken Asian woman. My eyes went to her and even as they focused she disappeared with a screech of surprise. She had gone _down_ and now there was nothing left where she had been. The number two was called next and Mr. White's finger flew to a girl just a few seats to my left. The floor under her opened to reveal a black abyss and the chair fell down into it, her body still tied to the arms and legs. Her scream cut off as the floor-piece snapped shut like it was spring loaded. No amount of blinking brought her back and more numbers came after that, too fast to process as the girls disappeared one by one. Three, four, five, six—the numbers kept counting and White's finger pointed out girl after girl, and girl after girl disappeared through the floor to god only knew where with a shriek.

Those remaining started to cry and pull at their arms and legs in renewed panic, yours truly included, the thought of falling into a dark pit too much after everything else that had already transpired. While White's callout continued the people coming into the room swirled around the table in either white or black suits or dresses, all of them holding silver trays. Trying to watch everything at the same time I noticed that the trays were covered in food that was being set down onto the table. As the trays emptied the waiters and waitresses would touch the remaining women still seated around me.

I couldn't help but stare at the processes. They'd give a light touch to the head or shoulder or arm as if they were touching some sort of sacred idol or good luck charm. I could hear Curly snarl out an obscenity after the number eight was called before she fell down, her curses cut off like the screams, but my eyes were locked on the man headed my way, his own eyes boring into my own. When he was close enough to touch he began setting dishes of food down onto the table while I watched, my mouth dry as the words I wanted to say stuck in my throat.

His tray was empty. My time was running out. He touched me then, just a quick brush of fingertips across my forearm, but it was enough to unstick the words waiting behind my lips. "Please help us. Please. I'll pay you." I begged in a whisper, terrified that Mr. White would hear.

The waiter leaned down. He was listening! In that half-second I wondered if he would slide a knife into my hand or just slice through the ribbon himself. He drew closer to my ear and spoke, "The glories of our blood and state are shadows, not substantial things; there is no armor against fate, death lays his icy hand on kings. Scepter and crown must tumble down, and, in the dust, be made with the poor crooked scythe and spade. Keep your head, and Alice, do try to heed what I've said. Good luck." His words had flowed out with a gentle lilt, but they sounded urgent.

Confused, I still thought he would set me free but he only backed away. My face dropped in abject horror. He wasn't helping. Nobody was helping us! Something pulled my eyes forward then to White, just in time to see his finger shoot out to my direction. Eight was the number he shouted but it barely registered as the bottom dropped out from the world. The air around whooshed up and everything was devoured by sudden darkness. There wasn't even time for a scream.

This fall was shorter than the last, and I landed with such unexpected violence that I chipped a tooth when my jaw clacked together and the air rushed out of my lungs. I gasped for air then groaned as I tried to shake away the unpleasant pain in my head, grateful that I hadn't bitten my tongue off too. I spit out the sliver of tooth, but it wasn't until I started massaging my jaw that I realized I wasn't tied up any more. The chair was gone and I was loose. The details of my surroundings started to flood in once my body was sure nothing else was missing or broken.

I was in a small room, the walls, ceiling and floor slate gray, but as with all the rooms before there was light coming from them so that the room seemed dimly lit without any direct source. Aside from me there was nothing else in the room. No doors, no windows, no chairs, tables or instructions. _At least it isn't pitch black this time._ It _was_ cold however. I crossed my arms and waited, shivering in trepidation of what might come next.

The wait wasn't long. A few minutes later a portion of wall slid open and a young woman stepped through with a cheerful expression on her face. She was tall and dark skinned, her hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her clothes were similar to the waitresses from above. Her dress was longer though, black and embroidered with thin white threads to create intricate vines that snaked all over, the leaves on each shaped like a spade.

"Where am I?" The words tumbled out when she took a few steps closer. I felt a little braver with just her in the room, no longer restrained or stuck in the dark. I could probably take her if I had to, never mind the fact that I'd never even been in a fight before, but I'd seen plenty of movies. At least my chances were better with her than with the armed men.

"Holding room B3-12." I must have looked as confused as I felt because she added, "The _Spade Castle_." Her answer still didn't make any sense and all I could get out of the entire exchange was that she and the waiter from upstairs had a different accent than Mr. White, and that there was an obvious spade fetish going around.

She let out a sigh, impatience spreading across her face, "Just follow me miss. I'm to bring you to your party. You may also secure your effects out in the hallway before we continue." She waved me forward. "If you would..."

Since I couldn't stay in the room forever I went along. What else _could_ I do? We left the gray cube behind and walked out into a matching hallway. She paused and motioned her hand at the wall to the left. When she did, another portion of stone slid down—to _where_ was the question though—and behind it was a small alcove. Inside sat my book bag and two bottles, one empty while the other held a few milliliters of liquid. I glanced at her and she gave a nod of encouragement, so I snatched my bag out and slid it over my shoulder. We stood there for a moment while I waited for her to move.

"The bottles are yours as well." She said at last with another sigh.

"No they're not." I'd never seen them before in my life.

She smiled, but it wasn't the same welcoming one as before. This was the sort of smile you'd give a stupid kid who's asking the easiest questions in the world and still not understanding the answers. "They _are_ yours. We took the liberty of bottling the screams and tears you lost on the trip over. You should really take them; you never know when you'll run out."

_They're all insane. It isn't just Mr. White and a group of brainwashed followers, no, these people are all certifiable. No wonder we couldn't get any help! _I gave her a smile of my own, "Gee, thanks. You didn't have to."

"It was no problem, really. Go ahead now, they're all yours."

I grabbed the bottles from the alcove then slid them into my book bag. I decided then that it was probably best to play along with whatever they had in store. There was clearly a level of insanity here that I wasn't equipped to deal with, so if I wanted to live I had to _not_ rock the boat. We continued down the hall until we reached the very end. She waved her hand over the wall and once again the stone slid sideways into more stone, opening the hallway into the next area.

Even before stepping through I could see the table in the center, and sitting at it was the auburn-haired woman from the dining table above, the one whose voice I recognized. She looked at me expectantly, only to relax after seeing who it was. The woman at my side pointed to the table, "Please take a seat miss. The herald will be with you shortly."

She ushered me over the threshold then stepped away, the stone sliding shut just after. Alone with the other woman now I felt lightheaded, and it took a second to realize what the feeling really was: something normal. Since falling through the sidewalk this was the first time I felt half-way normal, like everything else before this moment had been unreal. I held back a laugh at the idea that maybe I was the one going crazy here.

"This is really happening right?" I asked, walking over to the table.

The woman gave a nod, "As much as I hate to admit it." A flash of recognition came across her face, "You were in the room with me, weren't you? One of the last ones to come in?"

"Yeah." I sat down on the edge of the chair, unwilling to part with my bag again. "I recognized your voice too."

She held a hand out to me, "Roberta."

I burst into laughter after taking it, and at her questioning look I shook my head, trying to get my chuckles under control while we shook hands. Pulling mine back I tried to answer without laughing again, "I'm sorry, it's just, that seemed so _normal_, and after everything else I just—" I laughed again but forced out the rest, "It just seems _too_ normal now. I'm sorry. AJ, I'm AJ."

She let out a chuckle herself and smiled, "It's nice to meet you AJ. What does the J stand for, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Joanna. What about you? I thought they were only taking Alices?"

"Roberta is my middle name."

After a few seconds of awkward silence I tried to fill the void, "So I wonder what happens next."

"I'm not sure. I was one of the first to fall, did anything else happen before you got here?"

"No, he just kept counting out numbers, only went up to eight though I think, so a lot of girls got the same number."

"Teams. He said we were going to be put into teams."

"I don't think I've ever been this freaked out or confused in my life."

"That's probably a sentiment we all share." She leaned forward then and was about to ask a question when a door-shaped piece of stone slid open. We both looked up.

"—doing another fucking thing till I get some goddamn answers! I _will_ hurt you bitch now get me out of here, _now_!" Curly and one of the waitresses or hostesses, whatever they were, stood on the other side.

"I can't miss, _please_, Mister White will join you momentarily, if you could just take a seat—"

Curly let out a frustrated cry, fists clenched at her side before she walked into the room. "_Please miss."_ She mimicked the woman in a mock accent as she trudged over to us. The door closed behind her. "Fucking brainwashed, crazy-ass sheeple." She dropped down onto one of the chairs and looked each of us over, her eyes stopping on Roberta. "Compliant as ever I see."

"Just staying alive." Roberta answered back, her face growing hard along with the edge in her voice.

"And exactly how long do you think that'll be with these nutbags running the show, huh?" She turned her head to one of the walls and shouted, "They're fucking insane ladies," her eyes moved to mine before she added, "so wake the hell up."

It's sad to admit, but I was always a follower by nature. Give me enough peer pressure and I'd buckle better than a belt. I never liked to stand out, never wanted to be center of attention, and I certainly never wanted to be in charge of anything. That sort of responsibility made my anxiety flare up until I was reduced to nothing more than tears and shaking; just not leader material. But this curly haired girl, now she was what I thought a leader should be, albeit maybe a little rough around the edges. She was brave, fierce and had plenty of fight in her. If we were getting broken up into teams I was glad to have her on mine. And all that aside, I secretly relished the fact that if somebody like her was around, nobody would notice me, which was exactly how I preferred it.

I had been thinking of different ways to introduce myself to her when the wall slid open again. _The more the merrier._ Or, that was my feeling at least until I saw who walked in. The first face belonged to the child who had been sitting next to me at the table upstairs. She had half of it buried into the wavy brown hair of a cabbage patch doll that she clutched with the same protectiveness I felt toward my backpack. It was an anchor to home and sanity. Seeing her was like a punch to the gut, and all the comfort I'd been given with Curly on my team was sucked away by the weight of the child we'd be responsible for now. The constant reminder of children being involved in this sick game would be unbearable. I wanted to cry again, but held it back at the sight of White coming in right after her.

As they got closer to the table I gave a sideways glance at Curly. The muscles in her throat were tense and she looked ready to leap at the man. A picture of it happening flashed in my mind, as well as the subsequent flood of men with executioner axes coming in to mow us down for being insubordinate. I hoped she wouldn't do it, and as Mr. White pushed the girl toward the table Curly seemed to reconsider, her shoulders relaxing a little. The child, still hiding behind her doll, took the last chair and pulled her legs up so that she was as small as possible. She didn't deserve to be here; none of us did.

White clapped his hands then, drawing everyone's attention. "Now that we're a bit more intimate—I've brought you ladies here for a special sort of mission, one the other Alices aren't privy to for their own safety. You see, while we have hopes to reconcile this situation through the more usual means we also have need of a reserve plan just in the instance that Time fails to comply with our demands or we cannot successfully capture him."

"I don't understand any of what you just said." Curly snapped, "You assholes snatch us off the street and from our homes, hold us prisoner for days, weeks even, then tell us to go on some crazy ass mission that makes _no_ sense whatsoever, as if we'd even _want_ to help you freaks! I'm tired of this shit. If you're going to kill us just get it over with but quit playing these goddamn games."

"Don't you dare make those claims for the rest of us!" Roberta cried out, her eyes wide with fear.

"Ladies calm yourselves." Mr. White laughed, holding a hand up, "We have no intention of killing you. No need to get so excited just yet, I assure you the task ahead shan't be too difficult. All you need do—more or less—is retrieve a certain individual and bring him back here to us. That's it. Not hard, eh? And you have my word that once this is all over you may leave for home immediately."

"Why do you need us to do it?" Curly asked, "You guys got broken legs or something? Why can't you just pick up a damn phone and call his ass?" Sarcasm dripped from every word she spoke.

"Yes well," Mr. White looked a little ashamed then as he brushed some unseen lint from his lapel, "We have tried that now, haven't we, but he's got some sort of barrier in place that nobody from this land can break through. We can only hope an outsider is immune, and if you are then simply bring him back here to us."

Curly let out a dry laugh, "Yeah all right, I'll play along. What if we _can't_ get through, what then? We just stroll right on back here to you guys and get reassigned to paint the roses or some shit?" For some reason it was only then, after her comment, that I realized what was going on. The name Alice, Mr. White, the numbered handkerchiefs, the spade pattern; it was all related to Alice in Wonderland. _How did I not notice that already?_ I felt stupid.

"If you _can't_ get through, then you'll be retrieved and dispersed among the other groups; as for the roses, they aren't due to arrive for another twenty or so years if we're using the Queen as a means for measure, so you needn't worry about them."

"_Who_ are we getting?" Roberta asked.

"Why Hatter of course. He's the only one who knows how to murder Time, and _he_ ladies, is the fallback plan. Should Time refuse to stop this foolishness, or if we're unable to stop his antics ourselves, then Hatter will be charged with disposing of him without delay, before we all end up back in our nappies and prams."

"And if he doesn't want to come with us?" Curly challenged, "What then?" She seemed intent on poking any holes into the agenda that she could.

"Then you'll need to give him a bit of encouragement." Mr. White responded with smile. "We've got a pot of leverage that Hatter may be quite partial to, and if he gives you any difficulties simply show him your hand. It's a strong hand, I can assure you of that, and he's sure to be reasoned with once it's been shown."

"Why did you take women from Boston?" Roberta asked, and the question seemed so out of left field that Curly actually looked at her as well. _Does it even matter at this point?_ "Why not someplace in Britain where the original Alice was from? Out of every place on the planet why did you pick _our _city?" I wondered if I was the last one to realize the fantasy these people were living in or if Roberta was.

"Ah yes," Mr. White leaned against his cane again with both hands, "Well we'd considered Westminster first, this is true, only the historians told us there was a famous Tea Party on the far end of the world and what better time to make introductions than at tea. We simply knew if there was an Alice hero to be found then she would find a tea party at which to present herself. We would have gone back to the original party but with Time acting so impudent it was quite impossible. You're year just happens to be in conjunction with the Spade portal just now. Elsewise we might have even tried for the original Alice."

"Wait. The _Boston_ Tea Party?" Curly asked, incredulous. I had to applaud her though; at least she'd taken something away from his explanation. I felt like a dunce in the back of the classroom still. Westminster? Tea parties? Portals? What the hell was going on here?

"Oh you do know of it then! Good, good, I see we chose wisely but ladies, I really must insist we continue. Now then, to find your way," White went on, pulling a piece of paper and a pencil out of his pocket. He set both onto the table, laid his fan to the side, then began to draw, "this map will guide you directly to the Hare's house, which is just near the Hatter's house, but you'll pass the former first and can't miss the latter. Neither are very imaginative if you're thinking of asking my opinion, but that's not an issue for today."

He rolled the map up before I could get a clear look, then handed it to me, "That should fit nicely in your satchel I believe. Now are there any questions?

"This leverage of yours, what is it exactly?" Curly asked.

"Oh right, dear me I'd nearly forgotten. If Hatter gives you any trouble, tell him we've got the Dormouse locked below, and we shan't let him sleep a wink. If that doesn't put a twinkling in his step it's sure to put one in the Hare's and he surely won't let Hatter rest until Dormouse is returned to them. Now up you get, you're running late already. Time certainly won't wait for the likes of you."

Before any further arguments could be made, several doors opened and a group of armed guards came through. Curly seemed to take the hint and rose from her chair, her face still crunched in displeasure but she held whatever words she might have had for them in place. Maybe she was just eager to see if we were really being let go. Whatever the case I was glad she didn't say any more. If we were getting out of here the sooner the better, and any more confrontations or questions would only delay that.

Mister White led the way to the exit, the door opening on its own as if it were motion or pressure activated like the doors at supermarkets. He waved toward it, "You'll find the opening just down the way on the other side. Keep to the path ladies and all will be well."

Curly wasted no time in testing the offer. She pushed passed everyone and stepped through the door, the room beyond dimmer than the current, making it difficult to see what was ahead. The same flutter from before touched my heart as I stared ahead and my legs didn't want to move forward. All I could think about was the pitch-black room from before and how terrified I'd been. A hand touched my shoulder and I jumped.

"It's okay." Roberta said, smiling after I looked at her. "We're in this together. We'll be fine."

I nodded but didn't agree with her. She was just giving hollow words of comfort. There was no way to know that we would be fine. For all she knew there would be a meat grinder in the next room and we'd be served at tomorrow's brunch for the insane. Still I knew I couldn't stand in the doorway forever so I swallowed my fear as best I could and stepped across the doorsill.

My eyes adjusted fast to the dimmer lightening and it didn't take long to realize this next room was a cavern of some sort. The floor was dull stone, covered in dirt, and the walls rough rock that was cut away just enough to give space but no effort made to smooth it out. On some sections of wall there was pale white moss growing that seemed to be the source of light. It gave off a mild luminescence, but that was better than nothing. I'd take a dim nightlight over total darkness any day. I had never seen glowing moss before though so I wondered if it was real or not, but it wasn't liked I lived on the science channel so what did I know about cave plants anyway.

"Mind you," Mister White said at my back, and when I turned to face him Roberta and the kid were crowding behind me, the door already sliding shut, "if Hatter's services are no longer required we'll send a Dodo!" Then the door slammed shut.

"Wow!" The little girl said softly, her eyes pulled to the moss.

I was going to say something when "Are you bitches coming?" echoed down the passage ahead of us.

Roberta rolled her eyes then smirked, "Let's not leave the queen waiting."

A laugh escaped and I nodded, this time in earnest. I was giddy with hope suddenly. We were alone and allowed to leave. Nothing had eaten or killed Curly ahead of us and a solid door separated me from the pasty faced man and his crazy cult members. Maybe freedom really was just ahead. Roberta seemed to get the same idea because we started forward at the same time, both of us all smiles, a bounce in all three of our footsteps.

I'd like to preface this next part by saying that it had never occurred to any of us that we were truly anywhere other than Boston. As far as I was concerned we'd been taken to some bunker or warehouse, probably no further than the outskirts of town. I was still convinced we'd all been drugged and taken somewhere local and really that was the end of it. The three of us reached the mouth of the cave—thankfully it was a straight shot—and found Curly standing there with her arms crossed, staring ahead. I wondered what street we were going to be dumped out onto, but by the time I reached her side I knew wherever we were, it wasn't the city we'd left behind.

Stretching out in front and to every direction was thick forest. I had seen parks before; they had spruce groupings and rolling grass, benches and an easy path to follow. This was dark _forest _though, wild, untamed and utterly alien. The trees crowded together like strangers smoking outside in the bitter cold, close but not touching as they shied from the wind and ice. Their leaves touched above their trunks, blocking out much of the sun so that even with the light right overhead the way beyond looked overcast at best. There was no path to follow.

_No path..._ Looking at the ground it was only then that I noticed how foreign this place really was. I could accept that we'd been dumped in the woods somehow, that wasn't beyond me, but the grass underfoot wasn't at all what it should be. Grass could take on many colors for sure, but those colors never aligned in such a perfect way to create an exact checkerboard pattern. A twinge of doubt poked through my earlier elation as my eyes continued to take in the area.

The strict checkered pattern of the ground stretched out ahead, disappearing under fallen leaves and bark and out to the right, but it petered off to the left of us, the grass there melting into one, more natural shade. Where the checkers moved though, they even crawled up the trees, the bark itself going from squared patches of dark to light, up into the leaves as well. Unable to stand the pattern any longer I shifted to the left again, only there were variations of the unnatural kind in that direction as well.

While the ground and trunks were normal enough, the leaves didn't look quite like leaves. The ones still clinging to their branches were a healthy shade of green, the ones on the forest floor a combination of browns, yellows, oranges and reds, but alive or dead their shape was unmistakable. They were all spades. Every single one of them. I saw Roberta kneel down and watched as she pulled a handful of grass up, the blades falling from her fingers moments later.

"It's real." She said, as if somebody had asked whether it was authentic or AstroTurf.

"_Wonderland_ isn't real." Curly snapped. "It's called fucking landscaping and clearly these psycho's do some."

However rude Curly's answer was a comfort. _Of course there's no such thing as Wonderland_. It couldn't be that hard to plant two different types of grass, and although I couldn't hazard a guess as to how they managed the trees I was sure there was still an explanation. Curly looked over at Roberta and shook her head.

"_Real_," she sneered, "as if." Her eyes moved to me, glancing at the strap of the backpack on my shoulder, "Don't guess you got a phone in there, do you?"

I shook my head, "Left it on the charger at home."

"And you?" She asked, looking to Roberta again.

"I don't have one." She answered, her tone short.

Curly's lip curled up in distaste, "Of course you don't." She sighed, "Well that's it then, we're fucked."

"I have a phone." A small voice added and all of us looked down to the kid as she reached into her pocket. She pulled out a tiny flip phone with a smile, "Mommy keeps minutes on here for when I'm at practice and need to be picked up."

"Holy shit—hand it over girl!" Curly cried out with a look of triumph on her face. She snatched it out of the girl's hand when it got close enough, snapping it open and dialing 9-1-1 into it within seconds. She put it to her ear and waited.

"Hello? Police?" She answered, and the rest of us leaned closer, joy spreading across all our faces at the idea of getting some help at last. Her eyebrows twisted into a frown, "Is this the Boston P.D.?...Who the fuck is this!...I'm Alice _fucking_ Keller, that's who the hell I am!...What do you mean one of me?...But how—...No that's impossible...No I don't, the woods or something. What about you?...Can you see anything else?...Yeah I'll try, but keep trying the phone too, maybe you'll get through to somebody...Yeah right, you too."

Curly hung up the phone and shook her head before she tossed the device back to the kid. Her eyes passed over each of us before she licked her lips and answered the question hanging on every tongue. "The phones are being blocked somehow. We can't make any calls out apparently."

"Who were you talking to?" Roberta asked.

"Another one of the girls kidnapped. She said she's tried several calls herself and answered a few and every time it's the same, just another fucking Alice on the other end."

"That's impossible." Roberta breathed, "How can they divert the calls like that?"

"Do I look like a goddamn phone technician?" Curly barked back, the frustration clear on her face and heavy on her shoulders, "I don't know how the hell these guys have managed any of this shit. Smartest fucking psychopaths I've ever seen." She shook her head again, "Look, I don't know what you three plan on doing, but I'm walking my happy ass right on out of here and to the nearest police station since I obviously can't call for them. Tag along if you want, or don't, I don't really give a flying fuck at this point, but I'm done hanging around here. I want to put as much distance between me and these assholes as possible."

Not bothering to wait for an answer she turned to the left and started walking, _away_ from the checkerboard ground. I couldn't blame her, it was unsettling, and on top of everything else, unsettling was not a desirable place to be. I started after her.

"Wait!" Roberta called out behind me. I stopped and looked at her. "You don't have to go with her you know." She said drawing closer. "She isn't in charge."

"I know that." I answered, defending myself. "But shouldn't we stick together?"

Hesitation and conflicting emotions twitched across Roberta's face. She didn't like Curly, that much was certain, and Curly didn't seem to have any love for the older woman either. I wasn't sure why they had such animosity toward one another, but I got the feeling it was more than just conflicting personalities. But that was fine with me. I could be a buffer if necessary but I was with Curly on this one. Moving away was better than nothing at all.

"We don't know where we are." I continued, trying to persuade her, "Safety in numbers, right? And what if White changes his mind? He could come out with those guys and take us back in again. This might be our only chance to get away."

She let out a heavy sigh, "You're probably right." Her eyes fell to the child at her side then, "What about you sweetie? Are you okay? What do you think?"

It was almost comical watching her ask the kid's opinion. It had never even occurred to me. Kids were just kids and there wasn't much else she could offer the situation besides the useless phone. "I don't know..." She answered, bashful now, probably because her last attempt at helping had been a failure, "Go with I guess."

Roberta gave a nod, looking at me again, "Let's go then before she leaves us in the dust."

We caught up a minute later and it wasn't long before the group of us fell into a monotonous march. Curly's confident stride kept me moving, but the dark forest closing around us made me more nervous than I ever would have admitted. The funny thing is that I wasn't even afraid of actual animals that could be out in the woods. Wolves, bears, boars...sure they posed a _real_ threat but I was more fearful of the imaginary monsters crawling through the shadows beyond my range of vision. The sun seemed so far away with the canopy keeping out the warmth and light, and the longer we walked the more I felt like we weren't getting anywhere at all.

The spade-shaped leaves crunched like dry bones under our feet, the sound of our steps getting sucked up by the dense wilderness leaning against us. Every sound had me looking over my shoulder to find nothing at all, and it wasn't long before I was craving a cigarette to calm my nerves. I pulled my bag around front and dug inside, looking for the one thing that could make me feel better in this terrible place.

"What are you looking for?" Roberta asked, eyeing me from the side.

"My cigarettes. God I've never needed one so bad before."

"Do you really think that's a good idea?" She asked in the same tone of voice my mother would use, but I was already pulling one out and slipping it between my lips. Lung cancer was worth the risk with this kind of stress. I pulled a lighter out and lit it with a long drag, then slipped the lighter back in and shouldered my bag again.

I let out a slow breath, the smoke curling away from my face as my entire body relaxed from the happy habit. "Good?" I laughed, "probably not, but I need it after a day like this." Nobody argued.

There was little conversation between us as we continued to walk. I imagine we were all caught up in our own thoughts and worries, and I was too mentally exhausted to try talking about the situation. What good would talking about it do anyway? We were here, and no amount of discussion or debate could eliminate that fact. I just wanted to be home already, to be safe, but an hour passed, then another and another, and we didn't seem any better off than when we first started out. To make matters worse, as the day waned the landscape around us started to change.

The trees grew less hearty and more spindly, the ground softer and half-covered in peat. Pools of leaves turned to puddles of water, and then those began to turn into rivers and ponds. The moss was replaced with algae in some places and before long we were treading through what might have been a swamp or bog. I wasn't sure what the difference was but they both sounded miserable and moist, which was exactly what this place was. More than once we were forced to backtrack as the path—the last few slivers of dry land anyway—gave way to stinking waters. Navigation problems aside, our tempers rose along with the temperature. The air grew hotter as we went until we were all drenched in sweat and frustrated.

"We need to take a break." Roberta said at last, her hair a tangle of sweat and debris. Her face was red and eyes tired, a feature I was sure I shared at this point.

Curly looked around, wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand then nodded, "Yeah. Yeah I guess we can take a breather here. Fucking wish I knew where the hell we were. Is there even any swampland _in_ Massachusetts?"

"I don't think so." I answered, but it had been quite some time since I'd taken Geography so what the hell did I really know anyway. Maybe there was a swamp. Maybe we weren't in Massachusetts anymore. _Don't you even start thinking that. _My stomach grumbled and a put a hand to it, Roberta giving me a look of sympathy that told me she was hungry as well, and despite the moisture in the air there wasn't any doubt that all of us were parched.

"I'm tired." Little Alice—I had come up with the nickname an hour before—complained softly to Roberta, the doll she'd been hugging so tightly before hanging from her hand by one arm and dangling dangerously close to the ground. I was tired too, and honestly surprised the kid had made it this far without any prior complaints. Thank god for small miracles, right? If nothing else her mettle made me want to try harder. If an eight year old could hike through this crap then so could I.

"I know honey." Roberta said, struggling to sound comforting, "But we're trying to get you home so try to be strong a little while longer, okay?"

The child nodded, then crouched down and hugged her doll. After wiping my own sweat away with a forearm, I kneeled down as well and massaged my calves and thighs. I hadn't walked this much since gym class in high school and my body wasn't happy about it. Trying to work the cramps out I watched Curly fiddle with something in her pocket. It wasn't until then that I realized everyone else must have had something on them besides the kid and me. Must not have been anything useful though. I tried to think back on where Curly had been taken from. Was it her home? I thought that sounded right, and if it was she probably didn't have anything on her. _Maybe just the TV controller._ I tried to suppress a chuckle, but Curly caught the smile on my face and heard my restrained snort.

"What's so damn funny?" She asked, her voice unfriendly.

"Nothing." I answered, the smile vanishing, "Just thinking, that's all."

"Well why don't you try _thinking_ about a way out of here instead of whatever's got you fucking amused. This ain't a funny situation."

"You don't have to be so rude." Roberta snapped before I could even think of a response to the girl's venom, "I know you're afraid—we all are—but that doesn't give you the right to treat anybody that way. We're all in this together."

Curly's eyes filled with fire as she glared at Roberta, "You don't get to tell me what to do lady, and don't assume I'm scared of anything. You three decided to follow _me _and that's fine, but if you want to play follow the fucking leader then you can keep quiet and not annoy my ass 'cause we are _not_ in this together, got that? If you don't like my attitude, or you think I'm _too mean_, then you can just fuck right off. Everyone clear on that?" Her eyes swept over each of us, and when nobody raced to answer she shook her head and growled, "Breaks over," before turning on her heel and walking away.

There was even less conversation after that as we continued on. I kept to the rear, smoking and contemplating the world around us while the swampland stretched out to all sides without an end. At least I could see the sky now though, its blue the only vibrant color for some time. Another break in the monotony came soon after that as strange plants kept cropping up with increasing frequency. I wasn't the only one to notice them.

Mushrooms started pop up in singles and small groupings, some of them white but most of them unnatural shades of green, pink, blue and orange. They were small and bright, and like the moss they gave off a soft glow. There were flowers too. They grew in patches around the trees or beneath the mushroom light, all of them beautiful and fragile looking among the dark marsh. They didn't glow like the mushrooms or moss did, but their eye-catching colors still made them stand out against the gloom. White petals dotted the blanket of green and gray everywhere I looked, and then I would find a sudden splash of yellow or red or purple. They were such a wonderful sight beside the dismal background, and a much needed distraction from the mushrooms that only got bigger the further we went. The trees were getting bigger too, taller and wider until the tops were too high to see.

Despite our steady pace the swamp was getting darker and it wasn't hard to tell that the sun was setting fast. By that time I was already half-way through my pack and we were all nervous wrecks. Sounds of wildlife we couldn't see kept cawing or howling, rustling and splashing under the brushes and waterways until a head was turning every few minutes to try and spot the source. I felt like we were being watched by something and could feel the anxiety bubbling up until I lit another smoke and tried to ignore everything and concentrate on walking and breathing.

Roberta stumbled ahead of me for a third time and seemed to have enough, "We need to stop for the evening." Curly glared over her shoulder at the interruption, but Roberta continued, unabated, "There's no telling what's ahead, and _none_ of us will get very far with a broken foot or sprained ankle. We can't see where we're walking anymore or what we're stepping on for that matter."

Curly stopped walking and ran both hands back through her hair, pulling the sweat into her hairline before answering, "Yeah fine. You might be right." She let out a heavy sigh, then checked out their immediate area, her eyes falling on a patch of the larger-than-life mushrooms sitting to the side. They were taller than the kid with us, their gradual increase in size something none of us ventured to bring up. If their thoughts were anything like mine, none of us wanted to admit out loud that those things couldn't possibly exist. That was a dangerous line of thinking. Curly pointed at them, and to the solid ground beneath their caps, "We can sleep there I guess, better than out here in the open."

The sun was racing to the finish line, and by the time we were all situated under the unsettling glow of mushroom light it was pitch black around us, the only pause in the darkness the occasional luminescence of distant fungus. I settled back, using my bag as a pillow and stared up at the black expanse above our heads. I couldn't see a moon, but the sky was speckled with far-off stars. I wondered if they were the same ones I could see from my bedroom window.

Nobody said that we might actually and truly be in Wonderland, that would have been insane, but neither could it be argued that giant mushrooms like this couldn't be real. It was like being stuck between a dream and the waking world. I wasn't sure what to believe and a part of me still had a sneaking suspicion that I might wake up at any moment. Unable to tell these stars apart from the ones at home I went to study the underside of the mushroom head. Our chosen shelter was a sickly shade of green, the light matching the skin. The folds looked soft and every bit like any other mushroom I had ever seen before.

"I really do feel like Alice after falling down the rabbit hole." Roberta said suddenly with a small laugh.

I tilted my head to her and saw she was studying the mushroom as well, and decided to share my own confession. "I feel like I'm in a nightmare. These things can't be real, can they?"

"My husband and I used to travel all over the world. He was a biologist and loved to get real field experience. We went to Brazil, New Zealand, Australia... These things _aren't _real, at least not in any of the places I've seen." She paused then added in a softer voice, "But here they are."

"I'm sure you'll see him again." I offered, "Maybe you can bring him back a piece to study?"

She turned her head to me and gave the saddest smile, the same smile I'd seen on my mother's face. "Oh honey I'm sure he would have loved that, but he's been gone for nearly ten years now."

"I'm so sorry." The words tumbled out unceremoniously.

"No need." She smiled again, this one with less sorrow, "He had a good life, and I've got plenty of kids to remember him through, and a grandkid on the way. He would have loved to have seen this place though."

"Are we really in Wonderland?" Little Alice asked from the other side of Roberta.

"I don't know. Maybe we are sweetie."

"That would be amazing." The kid finished in a whisper filled with awe.

I envied her. All I could feel was fear and anxiety gnawing at my heart and stomach, lungs and brain. I couldn't find anything amazing in our situation, even lying next to a giant, impossible plant. I wanted to go home and get pulled into my mom's hug. I wanted to get a B on the test I missed and roll my eyes at the table full of teens that would try to egg me on while I took their order and get gipped a good tip. All of that sounded better than sleeping in the dark, surrounded by strangers and the unknown.

We all settled into silence after that, the sounds of nighttime bugs and creatures crowding the air with enough noise. I wasn't sure if any of us could get sleep in a situation like this. I was exhausted but mentally alert, hungry and damn near dying of thirst, but so full of nervous energy I could have leaped up at any given second. Still, I knew staying up all night would be nothing but a burden on my body and mind tomorrow so I forced my eyes shut, ignoring the creeping sensation tickling my spine, warning that something was out there in the night watching us. My ears were strained for any unusual noises, but everything sounded alien to me in this place. I would never get to sleep at the rate I was going.

I grunted in discomfort and turned onto my other side, opening my eyes for a second only to find that the landscape was no longer pitch black but a washed out gray and growing lighter. It was morning already! I couldn't believe it. I had actually fallen asleep and gone the entire night without a single dream or disturbance. I sat up and was getting ready to wake the others when something out of place caught my eye.

Something was crawling across the back of my hand, and I could feel the back of my shirt and bottom of my pants wet from the dew-covered moss we'd slept on, but none of that seemed to matter much, what with the three women staring at me from just a few yards away. They were holding hands and standing in a row, the two on each end holding their free hand out slightly to the side. They each wore a diaphanous dress, short and ending several inches above the knee; one was in white, one in yellow and the last in lavender. All three had golden-blonde hair, but two of them were fair skinned, nearly as white as Mr. White had been while the third, the one in lavender, had a darker, healthier complexion. Were they real? I was stunned by their sudden appearance and wondered if I was still sleeping, wondered that is until the woman in lavender wiggled her fingers at me in greeting, a smile sneaking onto each of their faces.

"Guys wake up!" I called out, not daring to look away from them in fear that they might disappear. They sure didn't look like a rescue team, but if they had a working phone I knew I'd probably cry like a baby and kiss them.

I reached back and smacked Roberta on the calf, "Wake up!"

I heard a couple of groans and then a gasp before the kid asked, her voice still low with sleep, "Are we going home?"

"Oh thank the Lord." Roberta whispered.

"Hey you!" I heard Curly call out as she climbed to her feet. The rest of us did the same while she started forward, "Hey!" She held out a hand to them, "Jesus Christ am I glad to see you. I thought we'd never get out of this swamp. I'm Ali; we're some of the Alices that were kidnapped, I'm sure you've seen the news."

The woman on the far left in yellow reached out and laid her hand into Curly's, letting her shake it although she didn't put forth any effort of her own. Watching this, I was elated by the idea that we'd finally been found and rescued but something bothered me. Curly, or Ali rather by her own admission, started getting into Mr. White and their kidnappers, but I started looking at the women a little more closely while they listened. What were they doing out in the middle of a swamp anyway? Why were they wearing such sheer dresses? Why did they seem so comfortable here, and not at all shocked at finding four people sleeping under a giant mushroom? More importantly, why the hell were they all barefoot? None of the questions made me feel comfortable or safe, and I wanted to warn Ali to back away but couldn't bring myself to do it. Something was wrong about it all, but could I have just been paranoid?

"—just glad somebody found us," Ali was still talking, "I really thought we were going to be stuck in this damn swamp another day. But I don't suppose any of you have a—" It was here that Ali seemed to notice something was amiss as well. Her voice trailed off and she took a single step back. The three women were still wearing the same serene smiles they had been at the start, and now the one who had been _shaking hands_, was still holding her arm forward, her wrist limp and handing in the air as if she had forgotten all about it. "—car..."

"Are you taking us home?" Little Alice asked. If she noticed the strangeness it didn't seem to bother her as much.

At her question, the women finally looked at one another before turning back to us again, their smiles still in place and not another muscle moved. The one in yellow answered, "We don't know who us is, but we certainly can't take something we weren't given. That's only obvious." Her voice was soft as a breeze, rising and falling at the oddest of places as if she weren't sure where the inflections should go.

"In addition, home is where we currently stand." The woman in white added, her manner of speaking the same although her voice was a little higher pitched and almost child-like.

"And taking from that," continued the woman in lavender, her voice deeper and more mellifluous, "we came to find out what you were doing in our home. It's very rude to come into somebody's plot without an invitation you know."

"And without even an introduction or greeting given first." The woman in white went on.

"It's enough to make one wither." The one in yellow finished with a sigh.

"Your plot? You mean your home?" Ali snapped, her previous gratitude fading fast as she realized they probably weren't getting rescued after all, "You live in the middle of a swamp?"

"This is far from the middle," answered the woman in white.

"But had you been invited you would have known that already." Lavender finished.

"We didn't mean to intrude." Roberta said, stepping forward, probably in an effort to pull the attention away from Curly, who didn't seem able to cope with conflict very well. Despite how strange the people were, I still hoped and prayed that they had a phone somewhere. "We're actually trying to get out of here but we've lost our way, that's all."

"How absurd." White said, her tone scandalized.

"These ways do not belong to you." Yellow added.

"They belong to the Queen."

"And even then, you can't have possibly lost the way since we found it quite successfully." Lavender concluded.

"Trying to get out before even properly getting in!" White said in a hushed tone, turning her head to Yellow.

"There's no accounting for manners whatsoever." Yellow agreed, nodding her head. She sounded disappointed.

"They must be foreigners." White said, studying us.

"Makes little difference." Lavender replied, "Manners know no borders."

"They _should_ explain themselves."

"Introductions should come straight away." Yellow ended.

"That's enough!" Ali roared, taking her retreated step back again. Roberta seemed to sense the confrontation taking a turn for the worst and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her back. She hissed something into Ali's ear, ignoring the snarl frozen on the other girl's features, before she stepped in front of her, blocking us from the women.

"You are absolutely right." Roberta answered, "We didn't mean to be so thoughtless. I'm Roberta." She waved her arm back to the rest of us, "That's AJ, Alice and _Ali_ has already introduced herself. We're trying to find the Hatter's house and—"

"No. No," Ali interjected, sidestepping the older woman. "_We_ are trying to get the fuck out of here and get home. Fuck the Hatter and fuck Mister White. We were abducted. Do you understand that? We're from Boston Massachusetts and some creepy cult kidnapped us so unless you live under a fucking rock you must have heard something about it on the news by now. Any of this shit ringing bells for you bitches?" _Well there goes our help..._

"Bells?" Yellow asked with a frown.

"You won't find any of those around here." White answered.

"Not for a long while."

"And where you're from has little to do with where you're going."

"Or finding."

"But you've finally mended some or your previous discourtesy, so we shall introduce ourselves as well." White finished with glance at the women to either side of her.

"I'm Ruellia." The woman in lavender offered, giving a curtsey.

"Lily." White said next, copying the other woman's move and giving a curtsey as well.

"Buttercup." Yellow answered last.

"And now that we've shared names it's only polite that we should ask you to join us in breaking our fast."

"We don't want any goddamn breakfast." Ali snarled before anybody else could answer. I wouldn't have minded some food but I didn't think she'd appreciate another opinion. "Can't you fucking get that? We want to get out of this swamp. I don't care about your names or your food or where you fucking live, I just want to get the hell out of here and get home!"

"_Well_," Ruellia breathed out, her smile gone at last. She glanced at the women to her sides. "I do believe we've come across a snapdragon sisters."

"Seems more like a Bramble to me." Lily countered.

"Let's not judge. If they insist on leaving before finishing their visit we should oblige."

"Quite right." Lily said with a nod.

"Very well, we shall lead you to the border of our plot if that is what you wish."

"Follow closely little buds." Lily finished before the three women turned in tandem and began to walk away, hands held again after the quick parting.

I wasn't sure how to feel as we started following after them. The whole encounter was stranger than strange, but they _were_ leading us out of the swamp so that could only be a good thing. All of us were too tired, confused, hungry and thirsty to talk much while we kept pace. The air was uncomfortably warm again, thick and humid with the fetid smell of stagnant water assaulting us every now and then. The women ahead whispered amongst themselves but from the back of the group none of their words were understandable. I wanted a morning cigarette but some instinct told me to wait, that I might have to make the few I had left last longer than I'd first anticipated. I was glad I listened.

The sun was reaching its peak in the sky, the light beaming straight down onto our heads when Roberta requested we break for a few minutes. Her face was flushed and there was an unsteady sway to her footsteps that made me think she might fall over at any moment. I didn't know her very well, didn't know any of them, but it felt necessary that we all escape together. They were a safety net, a support group, and I couldn't fathom getting free without them now. The thought of being on my own here was more terrifying than being here in the first place.

We stopped near a grouping of small mushrooms and stones, each of us taking a seat. The three swamp-women sat together. Ali sat on the edge of one stone, bouncing her leg, impatient to leave. Her distain for the rest of us, specifically Roberta, was so clear across her features she might have well have said it out loud. I couldn't help but wonder if she'd abandon us. She probably thought we were all just slowing her down, but she was probably right.

"I'm so thirsty." Little Alice moaned, leaning her forehead against the doll. She'd been warned earlier to not drink the still water but it was getting harder for even me to resist the attempt. _Alice has died of dysentery. _I suppressed the laugh building in my chest as I pictured our group in an 8-bit covered wagon. Ali would have probably been the hunter.

"I know honey, we all are. We'll be out of here soon though, okay?"

The girl nodded and closed her eyes. "How much farther is the end of the swamp?" Ali asked, eyeing the kid before glaring at our guides.

"The end is at the end." Lily answered, her voice and face tranquil.

"We can't get there any sooner than that." Ruellia added.

"What the hell does that mean?" Ali asked, throwing her arms into the air, "Why can't you speak like normal people, huh?" As she spoke, her voice raised to a yell and she stood, "You're all dressed like Vegas whores, hiding out in swamps and we're here lost out in the middle of fucking who the hell knows where being led around by a bunch of _fucking hippies_!" By the time she'd finished she'd reached an apogee near to screaming, and everyone was staring at her, aghast by the outburst. It must have been building up.

It seemed like Roberta was building up her own case to vocalize against Ali, but we never did get a chance to hear it. She was starting to stand as Ruellia, Lily and Buttercup sat with shocked expressions on their face. Somebody started to shout in anger, but the first sentence was cut short when an ear-splitting scream filled the air. It was nails on a chalkboard and sent a shiver straight through my eardrums and down my spine. Without an immediate care for where it came from I smacked my hands against my ears in a panic, the sound still getting through and resounding in my head like a bullet ricocheting off the insides of my skull. It was painful and disorienting, and I fell forward to the ground to try and get away in a combat crawl.

A shadow covered us, the scream still cutting through the area like a knife. Other screams joined it then, but these were from us. I looked up and saw our three guides staring at the sky, their faces contorted in fright. Buttercup was crying and screaming, Lily trying to pull her away and flee the area. That's when the wind started. It struck down in unseen waves of pressure that sent violent ripples across the water and plants. It was strong enough so that even when I started to climb to my feet I stumbled from the force. Little Alice was clinging to Roberta and Ali was backing away, her hands covering her ears as well as she stared at the sky. The horror on her face stunned me.

Something horrible was above us and even though I didn't want to see what it was, I looked up anyway. A dark shape was hovering overhead, pummeling us with surge after surge of hot, leaden air. The scream paused and I saw that it wasn't just a shadow hanging over our heads. It was a bird of impossible size. The wind was coming from the beat of its vast wings. The scream came again when its mouth opened, and the monstrous head looked down at us. Cold black eyes stared as its pointed beak spread wide, the gaping orifice large enough to swallow any one of us whole. We were about to die.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Hope this chapter wasn't too bad OR too long. I realized after uploading it that it's about 3k more words than the third person version but I just always tend to get carried away while writing and I never make cuts until the end.

I also want to apologize for how long it took me to upload this, sometimes real life gets frustratingly busy but I'm still working on this so don't give up on me if you've made it this far.

Thanks for reading! :)


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